


perhaps maybe

by jeannedarc



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, fluffy garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarc/pseuds/jeannedarc
Summary: Can you fall in love for just a weekend?





	

**Author's Note:**

> i gave my damn self cavities with this mess and i'm not sorry

**[ sms → wonshik ]** can u fall in love in 5 mins  
 **[ sms → wonshik ]** wait more importantly can u fall in love for just a wknd

**[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** you can fall in love at any moment in time  
 **[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** aren’t you supposed to be working?

**[ sms → wonshik ]** i am working, thats the problem.

**[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** how do you fall in love while you’re working at the expensive version of a carnival? is it a single mom? is her kid cute?

**[ sms → wonshik ]** thts a weird question hyung

**[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** nvm  
 **[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** look the point is that you can fall in love whenever, wherever, however, anything is possible in this weird world

**[ sms → wonshik ]** hv u been watching drama again hyung

**[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** it was hakyeon hyung’s night to pick what we watched

The entire idea is that he’s supposed to have power -- that’s what his getup entails, anyway; an official event T-shirt making him easy to spot among the zillions of people flooding the grounds; a whistle around his neck to keep the kids in check when they started running wild; an egg timer in his back pocket so that he knows exactly when to herd everyone off his not-a-slide.

But, looking across the tent ground, shrouded by the fair amount of darkness that has settled in throughout the evening, Sanghyuk feels kind of powerless.

It has a lot to do with the absolute dream of a human being supervising the bungee inflatable, a giant green monstrosity with vests attached to cords. Kids hop on in sock feet and wait for the attendant to strap them into their highlighter blue safety vests. When he does he smiles at them in the brightest way Sanghyuk has ever seen, and explains to them in quite possibly the softest voice Sanghyuk has never heard that they have to run as fast as they can from the giant dinosaur on the backstop to which the bungee cords are attached exactly when he climbs down.

Sanghyuk is kind of enamoured of the way this dream human sort of hops the little barriers between the lanes in which the kids are running to make sure each of them are secure before he hops out. His legs are the longest Sanghyuk has seen in some time (discounting himself, of course, thanks in large part to a growth spurt just out of high school a few months ago). Apparently, he only has one eye; his hair covers exactly a quarter of his face, hiding what is presumably an equally as feline eye behind jet-black fringe. His mouth is small and precious and spreads so wide when he grins at each of the children at his station individually that Sanghyuk is afraid his entire face might split into halves.

Yet he is more than fractions and ratios of perfection. When parents get afraid for their children -- something that seems to happen at his station far more than it does at Sanghyuk’s, and for good reason at that -- and raise their voices to him, dream boy seems to shrink into himself, shoulders bunching up around his neck and nearly touching his ears, which are almost always bright red in cases like these. He barely raises his voice above a whisper when it comes to anyone besides the kids. When someone comes to relieve him for his breaks, he is always gone as soon as the clipboard-wielding breaker appears, and comes back exactly three minutes later than he’s supposed to.

Sanghyuk is fascinated. He has been in love for several hours -- as in love with someone as you can be when you’re nineteen and this is your first job and it’s only going to last a few days and you know, you just know, you’re never going to see this person again.

He almost gets sent home for texting on the clock, but for fuck’s sake there’s no kids on his slide-that’s-not-a-slide, he isn’t doing anything, why don’t they just move him? (Or let him help dream boy. He has so many kids he doesn’t seem to know what to do in certain moments, and they almost manage to slip by him; his only saving grace is those endless limbs of his, the quiet way in which he deals with them, which they all seem to cotton to immediately.) No, instead he’s stuck at the second-dullest station, the first being the one between himself and the object of his affections, a large but simple bouncy house for babies two and under.

Exasperated, Sanghyuk stares up at his slide-that-is-not-a-slide: two large obstacle courses made of ropes and blow-up trees and climbable raptors that flank either side of its defining feature, a double-mouthed slide with a tyrannosaurus rex standing astride it. It looks fun, he decides; if he were a kid he’d love figuring out how to get up to the top of that slide and slip between a T-rex’s legs, if only to completely confound his mother and his theoretical replacement in this scenario.

But all the kids want to bungee.

Sanghyuk wants to bungee, too, he realises, gaze fixed unashamedly on the dream boy, who’s watching the kids get snapped toward the backboard of the station, profile lit in the remaining sunlight, smiling huge, shoulders shaking with laughter.

The egg timer dings in his palm; Sanghyuk doesn’t remember pressing the ‘start’ button.

He checks his phone, despite his manager’s warning not to be pulling that bullshit again. There’s still a few hours left to go.

When his shift is over, and the sun has completely set in favour of the bright fluorescence of the parking lot lighting towering overhead, Sanghyuk has come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter if he never sees this guy again, if they don’t stay friends, if he’s only in love for five minutes. Instead of worrying he plucks up his courage as best he can, ignoring the exhaustion that has long since seeped into his limbs, and approaches the bungee inflatable, ignoring the way his whistle pitter-patters against his chest as his walks in a seemingly identical rhythm to that of his heart.

“Hey,” he says casually, and there’s that powerless feeling again. The dream guy -- Sanghyuk finaly gets a glimpse of his blue-and-white, Hello My Name Is tag, stuffed into a plastic and lanyarded around his neck. Taekwoon. A nice name. A Beautiful Name. Shit, his mind is starting to go. Focus. “Um, so, you did really well with the kids.”

Taekwoon nods, ears turning red in that same way Sanghyuk has been watching it happen all night. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, wants to escape, and maybe it’s just because he’s tired too? Sanghyuk gets that. But if he doesn’t say anything right now he’s never going to -- their manager has already said everyone is swapping stations in the morning when they come back, and he won’t see Taekwoon again until the night they get paid, more than likely.

“Can you, um. Can you hook me into the vest? I wanna try.” Sanghyuk smiles, awkward as all hell. “All the kids looked like they were having a great time, so I kinda wanted to see what it was about.”

Taekwoon’s entire face is flushed, now, and if Sanghyuk hadn’t been endeared before, he’s absolutely smitten now. Nevertheless Taekwoon nods, murmuring an agreement, and steps out of the shoes he’d just toed into a few minutes before. Sanghyuk does the same, ignoring the gritty feel of his socks scraping the pavement. They climb the inflatable, and Taekwoon makes a tiny gesture, offering Sanghyuk the chance of first passage.

When they’re near to the backboard, when Sanghyuk nearly trips over the pile of fabric that is the vest he’s supposed to wear, Taekwoon stops, and Sanghyuk follows suit, turning so that they’re face-to-face. Taekwoon stoops, collects the vest, and on his way back up nearly knocks Sanghyuk in the chin with the back of his head. They both laugh, Sanghyuk awkwardly at his own near-injury, Taekwoon sheepishly and while scratching the base of his throat. 

(Their laughs sound good together, Sanghyuk wants to say. He does not.)

Then Taekwoon’s hands are at Sanghyuk’s shoulders, fitting the garment as best he can to his frame; it really is meant for a kid, and Sanghyuk’s growth spurt (he’s cursing it now) has ensured that he won’t fit entirely the way he’s supposed to. But Taekwoon’s hands over his chest, checking the buckles that lay just beneath Sanghyuk’s ribs, reassure him, calm the steady pounding of his heart. “You’ll be okay,” Taekwoon reassures him in a high, clear voice. “The cords are new.”

Sanghyuk doesn’t really know what that means, but nods his agreement.

Then he’s all strapped in, and Sanghyuk is left with the ghost of fingerprints on fabric-laden skin. Taekwoon does that little hop over the barrier that Sanghyuk likes so much, watches with lips pursed, a slight twinkle of mischief in his eyes that Sanghyuk probably isn’t supposed to notice.

Taekwoon counts to three, and Sanghyuk runs.

The force of the cord, smack between his shoulderblades, yanks him back before he even goes a few steps, and Sanghyuk is left face-down in aired-up rubber, breath knocked from his lungs and completely exhilarated. He climbs to his feet, slipping a couple of times on the way up, and tries again, gets a few steps further before finding himself falling down and back again.

Each time he climbs to his feet, Taekwoon is smiling even bigger. This, in itself, is enough.

When Sanghyuk has taken his fill of running and falling, his face probably red and a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead and throat and collarbones despite the definite chill in the late-winter air, he starts to unhook himself.

“Wait,” Taekwoon says, and he’s climbing that barrier again. Sanghyuk takes a few steps backward, until his shoulders hit the rough plastic of the dinosaur painted to it. He doesn’t really know what’s about to happen, wants to protest just in the interest of being informed, but then Taekwoon’s hands are back in the same places Sanghyuk remembers, unstrapping him slowly and with what looks like great relish.

This is a joke, right? Sanghyuk figures it has to be a joke. His heart’s already going faster than he thought possible, what with all the cardio he just did, but then Taekwoon’s hands are sliding the padded mesh from Sanghyuk’s shoulders, dropping the vest to the bouncy floor beneath them.

“You didn’t want to bungee,” he says, no accusation in his voice.

Sanghyuk swallows around the aerobics-induced dehydration lump forming in his throat, feeling a little backed into a corner. “I kinda did,” he disagrees. “But I kinda wanted to hang out with you for a minute.”

Taekwoon hums wordlessly, says nothing, merely rests his palms against the breadth of Sanghyuk’s chest, as if keeping him there will somehow keep this moment from ending.

(There is no dramatic buildup, no gentle inching together, no romantic conversation -- when you’re in love with someone for a weekend there’s no time for that.)

When Sanghyuk kisses Taekwoon, his lips are soft, his breath cool against Sanghyuk’s mouth, and his fingers curl vaguely in the fabric of Sanghyuk’s event-issue T-shirt, tugging him closer, as if he wants nothing more in this moment than for them to be as pressed together as humanly possible.

They part, Taekwoon slightly more breathless than Sanghyuk, a miracle if there ever has been one. “So… I know we’re working tomorrow,” Sanghyuk mumbles, eyes a little heavy with a combination of deep affection and sheer fatigue, “and I know we’ve been working all day, but...do you want to go out with me tonight?”

Taekwoon seems to think about this, then nods, catlike eyes just as sleepy and twice as cute. “As long as we’re here.”

**[ sms → wonshik ]** so i guess u cn stop watchin drama cause i got a story fr u

**[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** i’ll never stop watching drama.  
 **[ sms ← sanghyuk ]** tell me all about it but later. you better have asked her out.


End file.
